El hombre y el monstruo

Rafael Baledón's The Curse of the Crying Woman was practically unknown until it received a DVD release from the now defunct Casa Negra; and ever since has been considered something of a classic by the majority of horror fans that have seen it; myself included. I didn't go into his earlier film "The Man and the Monster" expecting anything near as good; and it's a good job really because while this film has its moments and is certainly a worthwhile slice of Mexican horror; it's also rather flawed and borrows from a lot of better films. The plot focuses on Samuel Magno; a failed pianist who, dismayed by his lack of talent, makes a pact with Satan himself. He gets to become the greatest pianist in the world; but the catch is that every time he plays the piano, he turns into a monster. With help from his mother (who is the only one that can tame him while he's a monster), he tries to break the curse by training a young girl in the art of the piano; but an enthusiastic journalist threatens to expose the whole thing.

The plot is fairly interesting and features enough different elements to ensure that there's always something going on. However, the film moves rather slowly and we're never really made to care about the central character, which can make plugging into his plight a problem. The central plot takes obvious influence from the classic 'Faust' story; but it doesn't work as well here. The fact that Satan makes the central character turn into a monster every time he plays the piano really just makes The Lord of Darkness seem petty since he's not actually getting any benefit from it (unlike Faust, whose soul he bought). The make up effects are not great and look rather like an over the top version of the monster effects in The Wolf Man; although I did actually find them rather easy to get on with. The film is rather artfully done and several sequences are really good; the all-explaining flashback sequence being among the best of them. Overall, this is still a decent horror film and one certainly worth seeing; but it's hardly among the best to come out of Mexico and I wouldn't give it high recommendations.

Man and the Monster, The (1958)

** 1/2 (out of 4)

Mexican film about a concert pianist who sells his soul to Satan in exchange for him to become a great musician. The only downside is that he also turns into a hairy, murderous monster. I was somewhat letdown by this film but overall it was a pretty good movie but it takes way too long for the story to get started and the monster isn't used nearly enough. The screenplay does allow time for the relationship between the man and his mother to grow and this here is actually the best thing about the movie. I'm not sure if this film was meant to be a version of Jekyll and Hyde because it does share some of the same ideas even though the monster appears to be more of a werewolf with a rat's face. The monster make up is cheap but effective. Original title: Hombre y el monstruo, El.

"The Man and the Monster" is another supreme Mexican horror accomplishment from the vintage late 50's/early 60's era. It's not as brilliant as "The Black Pit of Dr. M" or as petrifying as "The Curse of the Crying Woman", but nonetheless this movie benefices from a compelling storyline as well as from terrific scenery and devoted acting performances. Reminiscent of the legendary "Faust" as well as "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" tales, the script revolves on a middle-aged pianist who sold his soul to the devil (extendedly explained during a fabulously macabre flashback) in order to become the greatest musician in the world. Of course, since all deals with Lucifer soon turn out to be fishy, Samuel quickly discovers his success comes at a high price. Whenever his finest composition of music is played, Samuel transforms into an aggressive werewolf-like monster that can only be tamed by his domineering mother. They conceal corpses in their house and attempt to break the curse by training a gifted female acolyte on the piano, but journalist Ricardo Souto comes close to uncovering the horrific secrets. The continuously uncanny atmosphere of "The Man and the Monster" is simply irresistible to avid fans of Gothic horror cinema and, even though many people criticize the make-up effects, I personally thought the monstrous effects were rather acceptable, especially considering the film's year of release. Several sequences are beautifully choreographed and almost artsy, like for example when Samuel literally begs his mother to play the piano and she eventually silently consents by handing him the key to the front door. "The Man and the Monster" is a beautiful, enchanting and immensely atmospheric period piece. Perhaps not intended for the nowadays horror-audiences, but undeniably a masterful film.

"The Man and the Monster" (El Hombre y el Monstruo) was an Abel Salazar production from the prolific pen of his younger brother Alfredo, an ambitious exercise in musical proficiency that began shooting for director Rafael Baledon on June 23, 1958 (not released in Mexico for over a year). The producer once again takes the heroic lead role, his Dick Sandro coming upon the corpse of a female motorist who made the fatal mistake of crashing in front of 'Enchanted Ranch,' the home of Maestro Samuel Manning (Enrique Rambal) during a ritualistic nighttime recital watched over by his mother Cornelia (Ofelia Guilmain). The police blow off any suggestion of foul play, Manning carefully grooming young Laura (Martha Roth) as his new protégé, claiming to be unable to play piano anymore despite her assurances that his talent remains intact. The reason for his understandable reluctance is explained by the halfway point: watching his rival Alexandra (also played by Roth) earning accolades for her performance of an unpublished concerto, the envious Manning rashly calls upon Lucifer himself to make a Faustian deal in exchange for his soul, becoming the world's most accomplished pianist at the cost of his humanity, for every time he tinkles the ivories he transforms into a Mr. Hyde-like werewolf with bushy eyebrows and prominent proboscis (makeup by Armando Meyer). Once Dick discovers Alexandra's long missing corpse in a locked closet by the Maestro's piano, he starts to piece the mystery together but must rely on a brave Laura to unmask the monster that her benefactor has become during the climactic concerto. The most unbelievable aspect of the story is Laura's willingness to go on after being attacked multiple times by the Maestro/Monster, unaware that the devil made him do it! Gustavo Cesar Carrion deserves much of the film's success for his excellent musical score, several pieces of Tchaikovsky most familiar to anyone who has seen Edgar G. Ulmer's "The Black Cat." Perhaps the most heinous crime committed is the temptation to play for an aspiring child prodigy (Ana Laura Baledon), whose murder fortunately takes place off screen, lap dissolves similar to Universal's Wolf Man to effect each transformation from various difficult angles. Enrique Rambal's Maestro is no match for Lon Chaney's Larry Talbot, (both have no knowledge of what their bestial selves were up to during the night), though it appears that the powers of darkness set up Manning at poor Alexandra's expense (more deserving of audience empathy is his long suffering mother, initially cold and imperious). This was a rare horror title for lovely Martha Roth, who had previously worked opposite Chaney himself in 1954's "The Black Pirates," shot on location in El Salvador, where he was cast against type as a sympathetic priest.

I had greatly admired producer Abel Salazar and director Rafael Baledon's 1961 offering, "The Curse of the Crying Woman" (indeed, I believe it to be a horror masterpiece), and so eagerly looked forward to watching an earlier effort by that same team, "The Man and the Monster" (1958). And while this earlier film turns out to be not quite in the same exalted league as the later effort, it still has much to offer, indeed. Abel Salazar again makes for a sympathetic lead here, playing Ricardo Souto, a Mexican writer for a music journal who travels to an unnamed country to interview the great pianist Samuel Magno. What Souto doesn't realize, however, is that Magno has sold his soul to the Devil to become the greatest pianist in the world. Unfortunately, he is also often compelled to play a certain tune that transforms him into a hairy, fanged, bulbous-nosed monster, with a decidedly nasty temperament! Enrique Rambal does a fine job with this central role, and the actress Martha Roth, playing his disciple, Laura, is quite good, as well; she turns out to be as excellent a screamer as she is lousy at faking piano playing. Gorgeously filmed in B&W and employing superb use of light and shadow, this Mexican winner is a surprising visual treat. As in "Crying Woman," the mummified remains of a dead woman play a central role here, and the two films also have in common a startling flashback sequence that occurs roughly halfway through. Magno, in his Hyde-like monster state, is truly horrifying to behold, and his nighttime pursuit of Laura through a darkened hacienda is extremely suspenseful. So, too, the scene in which the "normal" Magno gives a lesson on Tchaikovsky to a young girl. Culminating at a classical music performance, "The Man and the Monster" is an instructive primer in what a classical monster movie should be, and is here presented on another wonderful DVD from Casa Negra.